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by singingstarryknights
Summary: Dan schemes up the perfect plan to tell the team about him and Lindsay. Spoilers up to 3x18


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Dan schemes up the perfect plan to tell the team about him and Lindsay.

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Spoilers up to 3x18

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The early morning dawn had just begun to creep past the jagged skyline, falling elegantly across Danny's features through his bedroom window. He groaned, cringing and turning away from the hazy sunlight, tampered by the thick city air. Rolling on to his back, Danny contorted himself into a lazy stretch, mindful of the other body sleeping silently beside him. He grinned sleepily at her curvy form, snuggled warmly into the blankets, just able to make out the fair skin of her bare shoulder beneath her unruly mass of curls.

Turning his attention to the ceiling, he listened as his upstairs neighbor returned home from work, the slam of her front door muffled by the layer of plywood and insulation between them. He closed his eyes, listening intently, hearing her heels click on the floor of her apartment, as she moved around, first to the kitchen, then to the living room, just above his bed. She was younger, her mid twenties, working as an exotic dancer somewhere off Broadway. Denise Something-or-other.

He had kept a protective eye on her when she moved in three or four years ago; partly because she was drop dead gorgeous, and partly because she had just left an abusive relationship. Mr. Kellerman, his landlord, had assured her that the building was one of the safest in Manhattan; they had a NYPD detective in 5C. She had knocked on his door sometime during her first month in the building, anxious to settle her nerves. He had gone upstairs, double checking her window latches and slide locks, and had pointed out to her that his landing on the fire escape was directly below hers. She had relaxed a bit, and she hadn't needed him.

He listened with practiced focus, hearing a catchy rock beat through the floor as she turned on a stereo, eager to wind down the excess adrenaline from her shift. He would have minded, but secretly, he looked forward to the hour when she usually came home; it meant she had made it through her shift safely, and it usually meant he woke up to sometimes decent, nearly always obscure music instead of his blaring alarm. It was a common practice for her, and she often expanded his musical taste, unknowingly; making him fairly eclectic when it came to music. Since living beneath Denise, he had discovered bands and artists he would have never encountered otherwise, fairly sheltered in his world of classic rock and the like. He frowned, making out the words.

"_**Tell me what you thought about**_

_**When you were gone and**_

_**All alone**_

_**The worst is over**_

_**You can have the best of me**_

_**We got older**_

_**But we're still young**_

_**We never grew out of**_

These feelings that we won't give up…" 

The rhythm lapsed back into the beat, and Danny rolled back over on his side, pushing a stray curl off of Lindsay's shoulder, dropping a delicate kiss to her skin, unable to stop himself from grinning as she sighed, snuggling closer instinctively, not waking, even as his scruffy goatee scratched her lightly. Rolling over again, settling on his stomach, he smiled contentedly as he felt Lindsay shift beside him, her fingers seeking out his arm in sleep, her calf twining its way along his. He listened to what he could make out of the words from upstairs, making a mental note to ask Denise about it.

Three days later found them at Lindsay's apartment. Danny woke up to the feel of his girlfriend squirming gently in her sleep, curling closer against him. He smiled lazily, cradling her jaw with his fingers, and pressing an attentive kiss to her lips, pulling back as she began to wake, groaning at the feel of her knee shifting up along his leg, hooking into his hip comfortably. He twisted, laying her flat on her back and rolling on top of her, grinding slowly into her, pressing a trail of lazy kisses along her neck and collarbone, making her squirm between his body and the mattress. She arched into him, a hand running through his hair, making it spike, a hand grasping at the sheet and balling it in her fist. He created a familiar heavy pressure between her hips, and she winced, on the brink of an amused smile when she realized he wasn't about to relieve it.

"Dan, work."

"Alarm hasn't gone off yet." He mumbled, working his way across her bare skin, his kisses becoming heavier as he made his way into the crook of her neck, eliciting a throaty gasp from her, and a seductive, decidedly feminine giggle as the alarm blared loudly, announcing the time. He groaned, frustrated, the prowl falling out of his muscles as he slumped against her, twisting and reaching for the offending piece of technology, swatting at it with a heavy hand, knocking it to the floor of her bedroom, killing the alarm. He returned to hover over her, mischievous grin curving lopsidedly, his lips forming the three word proclamation of affection in silence, crashing into her and kissing her thoroughly. His voice hadn't found the courage to speak it out loud, but she understood, she always did.

"Crime won't stop just because you won't get out of bed, Detective." She rolled out from under him, reaching down and pulling at the power chord, reigning in the alarm clock. He shifted with her, curling his fingers into her hip and pulling her against him, laying a heavy, affectionate kiss to the crook of her neck, making her squirm, ultimately, out of his grasp and out of bed. "C'mon, Cowboy. You handle the coffee, I'll leave you some hot water."

He watched as she walked around the bed, picking his old baseball hoodie from college off the floor and a fresh pair of panties out of her top drawer, padding her way out of the bedroom and down the hall, disappearing into the bathroom, the familiar sound of water running out of the tap a few moments later.

Danny let out a grunted sigh, rolling over in the sheets to lay on his back, twisting and stretching his muscles slowly, a sleepy smile making its way to his jaw. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes and reaching blearily for his glasses on the bedside table, his fingers landing on Lindsay's cell phone instead. His mischievous grin instantly made a triumphant return, and he felt around for his glasses, first shoving the frames onto the bridge of his nose, then seeking out Lindsay's cell phone. He swung his feet off the edge of the bed, standing and making his way to Lindsay's tiny kitchen, beginning to plot out the outing of their relationship?

Thing.

Their _thing _to their coworkers.

The mechanics of making coffee were simple enough, and Danny moved around her cabinets with familiar ease, setting her phone on the counter as he popped two slices of bread in the toaster and picked an orange out of the bowl on the top shelf in her fridge, tossing it in his hands like a baseball, waiting for the coffee to perk. He pursed his lips, already scheming a plan, and leaned out of the doorway for only a moment, satisfied when he heard the water continue to run down the hall.

"Perfect." He placed the orange on the counter, wiping the filmy residue off his hands, brushing then down the front of his tank top before picking up her cell phone again. He flipping it open, smirking as the screen sparked to life. He'd decided to leave her background alone, it would only tip her off that he'd been messing with her phone, and he'd be lying if he claimed that the wallpaper she had set didn't make him grin madly like a fool. It had been a candid self portrait, one half of the screen was her, blushing, a soft smile across her features, the other half was his profile, kissing her temple affectionately. Behind them, what would have been a wheat field, had they not been in Montana in February.

First, he hit the button for her contacts, scrolling down until he found his name. Choosing the 'edit' option, he erased his name, and thumbed the keys, typing in a witty phrase. Danny glanced up, tilting his head and listening carefully, no longer hearing the water.

Fuck. He'd better work fast.

Biting his lower lip in deep thought, Danny backed out to the menu, pressing in the code for access to new ring tones, thankful that the police issue phones were all the same model. Lindsay's phone was identical to his own, and his familiarity with the model shaved precious seconds off the amount of time his devious plan required. he stood there, in her kitchen, straining to remember what Denise had told him, finally recalling the artist and the title after several seconds. He scrolled quickly through the list of artist options, then surfing through the song options, making his selection and saving it, setting it to ring for his number only.

He grinned boyishly, padding back down to her bedroom and tossing the phone back on the nightstand, mission complete, making it back to the kitchen in time to hand Lindsay a cup of coffee when she came out of the bathroom, freshly showered. She arched an eyebrow at him, detecting his somewhat guilty conscious, but he shrugged, kissing her sweetly, handing her a piece of toast as it popped out of the toaster.

Hours later, Lindsay Monroe bent over a mound of garbage, sifting through the contents of what looked like it might have been lasagna four or five days ago, cringing as she pushed the take out box aside, squinting at a pile of crumpled receipts. She stood, blowing a wisp of wavy hair out of her eyes, pursing her lips at unfamiliar credit card numbers. She perched herself precariously on the edge of the dumpster, swinging her leg to straddle the lip, reaching over for her kit, sliding the potential evidence into individual bindles, and dropping them into a larger brown evidence bag.

"Dumpster duty. What'd you do to get tossed in the doghouse? I was expectin' Messer." She let her lip curve into a sly grin as she heard Flack's voice resonate clearly down the alley as he made his way to the dumpster, coming to a stop by her kit, his hands balanced delicately along his belt, revealing his piece as well as his badge. She flashed him a smile brightly, letting out a soft laugh.

"It's been a while since I reeked of rotting garbage."

"You'd prefer the trash run?"

"Crime scene's a crime scene, you know?" She shrugged. "I lost rock paper scissors to Danny."

She bagged a stained phone bill, and handing the evidence bag to Flack to place in the larger collection bag. He shifted his weight, taking a moment to watch her, navy jumpsuit making her usually slim, curvy figure boxy and a bit frumpy. She really was beautiful, and since returning from Bozeman, she had seemed more relaxed, even cheery. The scenes they had worked together before her leave of absence she had been distracted, solemn, tired. He had given up trying to joke with her; she never returned the witty quips he had tossed her way, instead, processing scenes with a brand of disconnect that he had come to associate with troubled souls.

He knew the outcome of the case in Montana had gone her way, but there was a gentle, feminine sparkle in her smile that he'd never seen before, and if she didn't seem so contented, he'd have been worried.

"So he stuck you with the trash?" Flack grinned, amused at his friends, glad that the Danny Messer he knew and trusted was making a valiant return. He'd been punchy, irritated, in the weeks she had been in Montana, but as of late, he had started to smile again, supplying jokes that were either corny or dirty or both. She shrugged again, her attention caught by something in the dumpster, and she swung her leg back over the edge, delving back into the garbage.

"Good to be back." She popped up again, inspecting the contents of a take out bag from some Chinese place. She frowned, leaning on the lip of the dumpster, brushing a stray bit of hair out of her eyes with her arm, her expression devious and smug. "I got what looks like two keys of something in a chow mien box. Coke, maybe?" She held them out proudly, dropping them into evidence bags and handing them to Flack before bagging the chow mien boxes as well. Lindsay disappeared again, bending down to rifle through a few cardboard boxes.

Flack let out a sigh, turning over the newly bagged evidence in his hands, holding it up to the light of the early afternoon sunshine. It looked like run of the mill cocaine, but it shimmered a bit in the sunlight. How they had missed that, he wasn't sure.

"Landlord said there've been a bunch of kids hanging around this dumpster last few days, heard shots, called the police." She nodded, rummaging through boxes and loose garbage. "Narco dogs were all over it."

"Hidden drugs. Great." Her amused sarcasm sounded tired suddenly, and he pursed his lips in gentle concern.

"You alright?"

"Fine. A little tired. Sore." Her answer was labored, as the contents of the dumpster shifted, and she grunted, digging deeper. Several seconds of partially awkward silence passed between them, broken finally, by an odd, slightly metallic melody.

"_Tell me what you thought about when you were gone and so alone, the worst is over, you can have the best of me."_ Lindsay stood, ears perked at the unfamiliar noise, as it continued, the punchy rock beat settling in. _"We got older but we're still young, we never grew out of these feelings that we won't give up."_

Flack glanced around, immediately on the defensive, hand on his gun. He scanned the area, confused as the clip began again, and Lindsay groaned, almost laughing.

"It's my damn cell phone." She balanced over the edge of the dumpster, extending her fingers, signaling for him to hand her the piece of technology that was perched innocently atop her kit, blaring the catchy tune out of it's tiny speakers. Flack smirked, glancing at the screen, seeing _"That man I sleep with- cell" _on the caller ID. She snatched her phone out of his hand before he had a chance to tease her, flipping it open and cradling it against her ear.

"I hate you." She disappeared again into the dumpster, and Flack listened to the rustling sounds of garbage being shuffled around halfheartedly, and he took a few steps away, giving her the illusion of privacy without leaving earshot.

"_Who you kidding? You love me." _In the lab, Danny's smirk spread to a grin, a warmth heating his heart in his chest at the sound of her voice. In the alley, Flack listened carefully, turning on his heel to face the dumpster, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Bit cocky, there, Messer."

"_Listen to you with the double entendres."_ He chuckled, listening to her groan into the phone as he navigated his way through the hallways of the lab.

"Was there something you wanted, or did you just want to show me my fabulous new ring tone?" She leaned back against the side of the dumpster, laying her arm along the top edge casually, her amusement clearly laced in her voice. Below her, in the alley, Flack shook his head, laughing softly. Clearly, Danny had gotten a hold of her phone.

"_You're welcome, and yeah, Adam ran the prints we lifted off the outside of the dumpster lid, came back to a Ken Hinsley in Washington Heights."_ Danny's smile turned warm quickly as he ducked into the empty print lab, away from other ears.

"He was in the system?" She turned, leaning over the lip of the dumpster, catching Flack's eye with her criminalist expression.

"_Proud owner of four assaults with a deadly weapon, and a B&E, and that's just in the last six months. This guy's rap sheet is longer than the Marathon."_

"You're a riot."

"_I do my best."_

"He got anything drug related on there?" There was a pause as Danny slid into the office chair in front of the computer, hitting a few keys and bringing up Ken Hinsley's full criminal record.

"_Ah, yeah. A string of possession with the intent to sell throughout the nineties, up until '04. Why? What'd you find?"_

"Coke."

"_Nice."_

"I do my best." She grinned at his gentle laughter, hearing him smile, half a city away. "You run with the print, I'll finish up the dumpster, and I'll meet you in interrogation."

"_It's a date."_ He flipped shut his own phone, killing their connection, leaving her to roll her eyes as she did the same. She pocketed her cell phone, shooting Flack an exasperated look to match his shit-eating grin.

"Don't you start with me."

"I didn't say anything."

"It's not funny." She disappeared again into the dumpster, leaving him to be amused all on his own.

"Oh, it's a little funny." Flack climbed up carefully onto a box beside the dumpster, peering over the edge to watch her. "Some CSI you are, didn't realize Dan messed with your phone." He ignored her deathly glare, laughing. "So I gotta ask." He bit his lip to keep from smiling, but the mischievous sparkle had already made its way to his eyes. She glanced up at him, daring him to continue.

"What?" Her expression remained somewhat defensive, but his relaxed into something she recognized as a sort of hesitant, stoic concern. He stepped down from the box, frowning. "Don?"

"Well, no, its not really a question, I guess." Flack frowned, kicking at the loose gravel in the dirty alley, his attention caught, momentarily, by his shoes. When he looked back up at her, he looked weary, almost defeated. "I want to make sure."

"Of what?" She asked, incredulously. He refused to meet her eyes, instead surveying the easy chitchat of the uniforms at the end of the alley.

"Make sure that your, ah, intentions are honorable." He mumbled, but she heard him clearly, letting out a sweetened laugh.

"My intentions? What, is this the 'hurt him and I'll hurt you' conversation?"

"Look, he's a lot more fragile than he lets on-"

"Oh, God, Don, this really is that conversation, isn't it?"

"I just want to make sure."

"I can't believe we're actually doing this, Flack."

"Will you just listen for a minute? Christ, you're worse than the suspects." He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before speaking. His tone had turned sharp, startling her, and she fell silent, giving him her full attention, leaning easily against the lip of the dumpster.

"Sorry, I just want to get this out without anybody else listening."

"Okay." Her voice softened, became quieter, and Flack tried to smile.

"Just, ah, just be gentle with him. You know, if you're not serious about him. Picking up the pieces from girls who he only cared about is hard enough. I'm not sure he'd ever recover if you broke his heart. You already cracked it, I think, these last coupl'a months. He's been miserable to deal with since, God, since after the Holly case, and he was a terror when you were away. He loves you, Linds-"

"I know." There was a gentle, feminine brand of sly that accompanied her smile, reaching her eyes. "I'm playing for keeps, and I'm not letting go." It was enough for Flack, and he broke into a genuine grin, nodding.

"Okay then." He watched as she disappeared again, crouching back down into the dumpster. When she retorted, her voice was muted marginally by the heavy sides.

"Do I pass, Detective Flack?"

"Yeah, of course. I just wanted to be sure." He was thankful she had started to rummage through the dumpster again, as his cheeks turned a light pink shade.

"Good." She popped up once more, a devious smirk plastered across her features. "'Cause when I get a hold of his phone, I'm setting the ring tone to Celine Dion and changing the language to Korean."

Lindsay disappeared again, into the dumpster, smugly pleased at the sound of Flack's laugh. Fleetingly, she wondered how the rest of the team would take it.

………

Lindsay's new ring tone is The Starting Line's 'Best of Me' which is the most perfect post-3x18 Danny and Lindsay song ever. Hope you liked it, thanks for reading!


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